


Dark Hour Revue

by BlackenedThorne (BlueThorne)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Devil May Cry, DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brothel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate use of demonic power, Incest, Injury, Jealousy, M/M, Sibling Incest, Who put plot in my porn? Oh no it was me.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueThorne/pseuds/BlackenedThorne
Summary: After pissing off his bosses, Leon earns an odd undercover assignment working at a brothel that turns out to be full of demons. The good news is they're all very attractive. The bad news is there's a mysterious drug going around that turns them feral and bloodthirsty. All things considered, he's had much worse assignments.
Relationships: Credo/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante (Devil May Cry)/Leon S. Kennedy, Dante/Dante (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 43





	1. Job Interview (Introduction, Dante/Leon)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, here is a weird fic I've had in the works for years that no one will read. It's very self-indulgent and has a lot of plot for something that should really just be smut. I do plan to try and somewhat label the chapters according to what pairings appear because I aim to make this somewhat episodic with an overarching plot that drifts between each character's story. 
> 
> Also, everyone fucks. I limited the pairing list to the main ones, but they all fuck, just not always for story purposes. I have some actual PWP chapters planned.

Leon couldn’t say it was his strangest assignment.

He wouldn’t have even called it the most degrading. 

It was high on the list, though. 

At least the place looked nice from the outside. A few blocks from the main streets, it sat on the corner in the high end of town, looking more like a fancy house kept by some rich old widow than a business. Four stories of flower boxes and clean, white paneling made for an odd front.

He checked the address scrawled across a scrap of paper three more times just to make sure he hadn’t made some mistake. He’d seen photos, but the place looked even less real in person - a pristine brothel. 

Granted, he’d never been to a brothel, so maybe the appearance was normal. 

Probably not. 

The concrete steps led up to tall double doors, and Leon debated the merits of knocking. Though the place was a business, showing up unannounced in the middle of the day might have been an odd choice. 

“Like I give a damn,” he muttered, shoving the heavy door open with his shoulder. 

The inside held a parlor area that almost looked fancier than the outside - tile floors, curio cabinets, a chandelier - all in stark contrast to the stage and stripper pole that were just… there. 

“What?” he more mouthed than said. Even so, he got an answer.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? Did you want to see me have a go? Or maybe you want to try.” 

The sudden voice made Leon’s hand tense, ready to go for a gun that was no longer at his hip, but he relaxed just as quickly when the strange guy laughed off his own idea. The man stood leaning in an empty doorway with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Leon recognized this one - Dante. Leon had seen enough grainy photos to recognize that snowy white hair and cocky grin anywhere. Dante was the one they had the most information on, but even that wasn’t much. 

In all the photos he’d worn a ragged red coat and carried a massive sword, so seeing him in a button-down vest and collared shirt made him look like a different person. As he strode up to Leon, the gap in their height became more evident. Leon found himself looking up to hold Dante’s gaze.

The agent fought to smother the distrust from his voice and expression. Something about the other man’s presence made the air feel like it had been infused with static, and easing the tension from his shoulders proved to be a challenge. 

“I think I’m good for now, thanks.” 

“Aw, you’re missing out.”

Dante’s eyes were a shocking shade of pale blue that felt like they could rip Leon’s cover to shreds each time they flicked over his form. Then again, his cover was starting to feel pretty lousy. Standing in the pristine brothel in thrift store jeans and a jacket didn’t help him fit in, even if it did make him look like some down-on-his-luck bastard. That was the goal, after all. 

“Do you have an appointment?” Dante asked, the playfulness fading from his smile to be replaced with a darker smirk. “If you do, you should consider switching your pick. I’m free.” He winked. Of course he did. 

Though playing along with the flirting might have helped his case, Leon couldn’t shake the dead, unimpressed stare that settled onto his face. He couldn’t believe anything about this man had made him anxious moments before. Holding back a sigh, Leon decided to bite the bullet.

“Actually, I’m looking for a job.” 

Instead of disappointment, Dante’s eyes lit up like an over-excited dog’s. “As?” he prompted. 

“Is there more than one position here?” Leon asked, leaning back as Dante leaned in closer. The gap between them remained even.

“You could be our maid,” Dante said. “I bet you’d look good in one of those frilly outfits.”

Leon hid a laugh with a wheezed cough. There was no way this place was real, no way his assignment was real. It had to be some elaborate hazing ritual or a dream. But he’d worked his position too long to be hazed and his face felt too hot for it to be a dream. “I’m sure I’d look great,” he said, “but if that’s the uniform, then being a whore seems like the less degrading option.”

Leon gave up on making any sense of Dante as the man barked a laugh. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Oh, and not that I mind being called a whore by any means, but Dad prefers the term ‘sex worker,’ so keep that in mind if you want to get on his good side. I think I might like to keep you around.”

As soon as he opened his mouth to ask, Leon decided he didn’t want to know why it mattered what Dante’s dad thought, so he refocused on dragging them back on topic. “You are hiring then?”

“Oh, always,” Dante said as he tugged his tie loose. Once it hung open around his neck, he set to unbuttoning his vest. His eyes remained locked on the warmer blue ones in front of him, and Leon found it impossible to look away. “I’m Dante, by the way.”

“Leon.” 

A moment’s panic flashed across the agent’s face before he could force calm back in its place. He’d never made such a monumental slip-up before. Even a rookie didn’t make the mistake of giving out his real name. As curses roared through his head like a bullet train, he hoped his forced smile didn’t show off his desire to go hide somewhere and never be found. 

A secondary concern was that Dante had his vest unbuttoned and was starting to work on his dress shirt. With each passing second, more skin showed. “Uh,” Leon managed. As lackluster as his mission briefing had been, he still felt they should have mentioned what to do in a scenario like this. 

“I’m going to do your interview,” Dante said. 

Realization hit Leon like a slap, his shoulders bunching up as he fought off the urge to kick the stripping man in the face. Never a good interview tactic. “Here?” Leon hissed. The parlor was already out in the open, but the front door was unlocked too. If he could walk in, so could anyone else. Besides, he swore there should have been more questions in an interview before anyone got naked. 

“We can go somewhere more private if you like.” Grinning, Dante winked again, and Leon reconsidered his stance on kicking the man in the face. 

“Dante, what are you doing?” A biting voice from above cut in. Again, Leon tried to grab for a gun he didn’t have at his hip as his gaze shot to the man who’d appeared at the top of the stairs. The man’s vest was blue, his hair brushed back out of his face, but with every glance from him to Dante, the realization sank in for Leon that they were identical. The agent had seen a couple of blurry photos of this one - Vergil. The name was all the information they had. Seeing both men in one room was actually his first confirmation that they weren’t the same person. 

How a family with so much wealth left so little of a paper trail was beyond anything Leon could understand. Their files were blacked out or scrubbed clean, and no one seemed to want to fill in the blanks for the person who had to go deal with them. Lesson learned, Leon thought. Pissing off the man who picked assignments was ill-advised. 

“I’m going to do an interview for the possible new-hire,” Dante called up to the one who was undeniably his brother. Another set of icy eyes narrowed in on Leon. Despite all his years of dealing with criminals and firefights, the agent had never seen a stranger with more contempt for him than Vergil. 

The man spoke with a tone so harsh that it rivaled sandpaper. “We are not doing that. Put your clothes back on.”

“I was just kidding, Verge,” Dante howled like a neglected dog. “You could have played along.”

“Never.”

“A joke?” Leon knew he should have felt relief instead of the overwhelming desire to knock Dante’s feet out from under him, but what Leon knew had never stopped him before. “Was the joke me seeing you shirtless?”

With a gasp, Dante’s hand smacked to his bare chest. Vergil made a sound like he’d inhaled some water. “Don’t you side with him,” Dante called. “We have the same body, you know.” 

“If you say so. Don’t do anything too stupid because I’m not getting involved in this.”

“You already did,” Dante muttered as Vergil slinked away from the banister and back out of sight. With the flip of some mental switch, Dante’s smile returned along with the buttons of his shirt. “That’s Vergil, by the way,” he said. “My brother, if you couldn’t tell. Some days he doesn’t have the stick shoved that far up his ass. Maybe you can get properly introduced later.”

“Maybe.” Leon’s brows pinched at the sight of the hasty knot tied into Dante’s silver tie. It hung loose and messy now, but that seemed to fit its wearer better, and focusing on it kept Leon from thinking too much about the oddity of brothers working at the same brothel. “About an actual interview,” he prompted.

“Oh, the boss isn’t actually here right now, but he’ll probably be back soon.”

Leon kept his eyes on the ugly knot to stop himself from glaring a hole through Dante’s face. 

“I’ll give you a tour in the meantime if you want.”

“That would be great.” Despite his forced polite smile, Leon’s head rang with cheers. Finally, something was going his way. Getting a tour of the place he needed to be scoped out often took weeks of earning trust, but those locations had always been more hidden, not sitting out on 5th Avenue. 

During his briefing, if it could even be called that, Hunnigan had sighed as she brought up a rough sketch of the building’s layout on the overhead projector. “This is all we’ve gotten from the scout,” she said. Most branching rooms had big question marks drawn over them. “This place is expensive, so the directors didn’t bother after the first attempt was a bust. The whole interior was remodeled when they acquired the place. I don’t know who they’re paying off or why it matters. It's a brothel.” Her eyes rolled over to him with a pointed accusation. “And you’re going to work there?”

He could tell she meant it with concern, even if she wouldn’t admit it. At least someone was concerned so he didn’t have to be. “That’s the idea,” he said, shrugging. “If it turns out this is all some big ploy to just get me out of the way for a while, then at least I’ll be getting some extra money on the side. Maybe they’ll pay me better too.”

At his smile, she pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. “You’re way too alright with this. The lack of information here isn’t right. Either this is all some elaborate ruse because you’re that good at pissing people off, or there’s something big they’re not telling us. Keep on your toes with this one.”

As Dante showed off the stripper pole up close like it was his new car, Leon felt sure he’d just gotten a mission pulled from the bottom of the stack. “It took a lot of asking, but I finally got Dad to let us have one,” Dante said.

“‘Dad’ is your boss?”

“Yep.”

“Is he your actual father?” 

“Would it be weirder if I said he wasn’t?” 

Thinking up an answer to that required Leon’s mind to take paths he wasn’t certain he wanted to set foot near, but his moment’s distraction was the perfect opportunity for Dante to place a hand to his back and push him toward the next room. 

The kitchen looked suited for a mansion, a very unkempt mansion. Scattered takeout boxes were the only things on the countertop besides a dusty toaster and a coffee pot as well-worn as the one back at his office. “Need a drink?” Dante asked. “Coffee? Tea? Shots? Tap water?”

“Coffee would be nice.” Some hard liquor would have been even better, but he’d already given out his first name. He didn’t need to be any more loose-lipped than he already was. 

Dante fetched him a white mug with some cats printed on it. One of the few precautions Leon had been allowed was a way to test for drugs. Though he bothered to dip the coating on his fingernail in the tepid drink, it came back as clear as expected. Despite all the mystery, Leon couldn’t find a single reason to look at Dante with suspicion. 

The coffee had been sitting out for a while, but even fresh, it must have tasted awful. Leon’s years of training weren’t enough to stop him from wrinkling his nose for a half-second, and that was enough for Dante’s quick eyes. “That bad? Vergil usually just dumps the whole pot down the sink when I make it. I guess he didn’t even bother to try it today.”

“Well,” Leon attempted, wondering how something could be so bitter and watered down at the same time, “it at least has some coffee in it.”

With another bright laugh, Dante took the mug back from Leon without being asked. “You’re too kind. If things go well, maybe Vergil will make you a pot of good coffee as a welcome gift.”

The next stop on the tour was brief, a dining room that looked as pristine as it was unused. Leon had to hold back a sigh of relief when Dante showed off their laundry room with its seven spinning machines. If the sheets didn’t get washed, his job be damned, Leon would have left. 

The second floor had the long, mysterious hallway from their layout sketches, closed doors lining both sides like a hotel. At the first set of doors sitting across from each other, Dante held up both hands to point at them. “Left one’s mine, the right’s Vergil’s. We won’t go looking at Vergil’s room right now because I’d like to keep my limbs attached, but-” Throwing open the door to his own room, Dante gestured to it with a sweep of his arm. 

Ignoring the dirty clothes scattered across the floor and the stray bottles of cheap whiskey, the room did look like an oversized hotel suite. Leon only noticed the sword behind the door as Dante was closing it. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of it later,” Dante said with the smirk Leon had come to anticipate. 

“Only if I’m getting paid for it.”

Dante clicked his tongue but didn’t lose his smile. “You’re cuter when you’re blushing. I’ll have to work harder.” He hopped toward the next door on his toes, leaning on it as he knocked. “Pretty boy, you busy?”

“I’m always busy if it’s you, Dante,” a smooth, clear voice replied. Despite that, he opened the door and let Dante fall a step into the room. Leon’s brows shot up at the sight of him. With long, sweeping black hair and delicate features, he was the prettiest man Leon had ever seen. His lean form still held apparent muscle, though, and even without the stilettos Leon couldn’t help but notice on his feet, he must have been just as tall as Dante. 

“Everyone’s being so mean to me today,” Dante sighed. “You should at least pretend to like me in front of the new guy, or he’s going to know right away that he’s allowed to make fun of me.” 

“You bring it upon yourself.” The man’s dark eyes swept over Leon in a way that made the agent feel naked. “New guy? Your father approved of this?”

“Well, not yet, but I’m hoping for the best. Leon, this is Modeus. Modeus, Leon.” Dante gestured between them with lazy sweeps of his hand. “Blondie here is going to try applying with us.”

“Blondie?” Leon grumbled. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than pretty boy, but he hoped it didn’t stick. “It’s nice to meet you, Modeus.” He offered a hand that Modeus took with a cautious, momentary touch before letting go. 

“I believe it will be a - how do you say it - a difficult buy with Master Sparda on this one, but I wish you the best. I must finish preparing for a client.”

“Have fun,” Dante called as the door was pushed shut against his weight. He glanced at the door across the hall before hooking his arm with Leon’s and dragging him further down toward the next flight of stairs. “I think Red just got through with a client, so we’ll leave him be for now. Probably napping.”

Just as Leon managed to match his stride to Dante’s longer steps, a door opened behind them. “Are you talking shit, Dante?”

A grin flashed onto Dante’s face as he let go of Leon’s arm to spin on his heel. “Nah, I just didn’t want to bug you. Figured you were out cold. You always wear yourself out.”

“Only if the guy’s a decent fuck.”

Leon turned to find a guy who looked suspiciously young. He hoped at least twenty because the only thing the guy had on was a red pendant around his neck. His short black hair was a mess, and he leaned against the doorframe with a groggy, bored expression. 

“You know you shouldn’t be naked in front of strangers until you get the money,” Dante scolded despite looking perfectly content to see his coworker stripped. “Anyway, this is Leon, he’s a prospective new-hire. Leon, this is Red.” 

Leon had expected that to be one of Dante’s weird nicknames, so hearing the guy introduced with it made it apparent that Red was either using a stage name or had something to hide. “Oh, it’s nice-” Before Leon could even decide whether to shake hands with someone fully naked, Red cut him off. 

“I guess he’s not bad.” In spite of his words, Red’s lip twitched toward a snarl as he looked Leon over. “But I’ve got the twink market covered here, so he’d better have something else going for him.” 

Leon looked down at himself, frowning. Twink? Was he a twink? No, definitely not. 

“Well, you’ve got our ‘bad boy’ market cornered, so we need a good boy,” Dante offered. 

“What about Nero?”

“Nero would sooner bite someone’s dick off than ever pretend to be good.”

“Hm. True. Hey, I need a shower after that last boring fuck. Do you want to join me, or are you stuck with prom king here?”

Dante strutted up to Red like an eager tomcat, one hand drifting along the bare skin of Red’s jaw and neck, and the other tracing his side down to his hip. Leon took an interest in the doorframe instead.

“Aw, you know I’d love to stay,” Dante purred, “but I’m trying to show off for the new boy. How about a rain check?” His grin widened. “Or I guess I should call it a shower check.” 

Red’s eyes rolled so hard that Leon wondered if it hurt him. “Every time I think your shitty jokes can’t get worse, they do.” When Red’s glare flashed toward him, Leon turned his head and covered his smile with a hand. With another snarl from Red, he stepped back from Dante’s grasp and slammed the door shut. 

Running a hand back through his hair, Dante sighed. “I’d say he’s not always like that, but I’d be lying. Honestly, though, he’s cute when he puts his hackles down.” He slipped on another one of his lazy smiles and started back down the hall like nothing had happened. 

Leon hoped his face didn’t look as warm as it felt. His job was to gather information, personal or otherwise, so he knew he needed to be asking any available questions. In any other case, that hadn’t been an issue, but asking Dante anything felt like falling into the jaws of a trap.

“So…is it standard to be so, uh, touchy with everyone?”

The trap jaws clicked shut into an ear-to-ear grin. “You don’t have to get so friendly with us outside of work if that’s what you’re asking, but you might need to learn to be as touchy with your coworkers as you are with clients if you get picked for any shows.”

“Shows?” Leon wasn’t sure he’d ever hated the sound of anything more. 

“Well, Dad usually doesn’t allow for clients to be involved with threesomes. Too many personalities… egos… it can just get troublesome is all.” Dante brushed away the oddities of the statement with a wave of his hand. “But some clients will just pay to watch or give some orders to a couple of us, and I gotta say, those are my favorites. I get picked with Red pretty often. People are predictable. They like their types in the right places, you know?”

Leon wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t want to sound stupid by asking, so he nodded instead. “But you get picked for shows with others too?”

“Of course. It’s really a free-for-all.”

“Like… your brother?”

Dante’s expression turned blank, but his eyes remained as sharp and curious as ever, scanning Leon’s face for something. “Some people have particular interests. Does that bother you?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to think. His mouth remained partially open as he waited for a response to come to him. “It probably should,” he said with a slow realization. “But you’re both adults, so as long as everyone’s consenting… I guess…” His face burned. “It’s not really hurting anyone.”

All the tension vanished with another of Dante’s laughs. “You really could have said yes, and it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. What we do is weird as hell, but that’s a nice take on it. Never heard that one.” Dante’s knuckles, worn with calluses, pressed up gently under Leon’s chin to pull his gaze from the floor. Though Leon was sure he should have pulled back, at the same time, he knew Dante meant no harm, and it was hard to find the strength to pull away from the pale blue eyes pinning him there. 

Dante hummed in thought before speaking again. “You know, if I ever get the chance, I’d love to do a show with you. Only if you’re up for it of course, but you’re always welcome to get a head-start even if we never get picked.”

Leon huffed a laugh before pulling away. “Is that why you’re so invested in helping me get the job?” That reason may have been better than any alternatives. Places that were too eager to let him into the group often already knew he was undercover. 

Dante shrugged. “I can’t say that’s not part of it, but it’s always nice to have someone new. Shakes things up a bit. I hate getting bored. Plus, you’re pretty, and I’ll vote for anyone who appreciates my jokes.”

Leon held a curse between his teeth. “They’re really not good jokes, Dante.”

“But they make you smile,” Dante sang as he jumped ahead to take the stairs two at a time, and Leon knew he couldn’t lie his way out of it. 

The third-floor hall was identical to the second, down to the number of doors on each side. “If we can get you past my dad, your room will probably be up here,” Dante said. “Most of these are empty, but luckily you’re here, so I can introduce you to our resident virgin.” 

“Huh?” was all Leon had time to say before Dante tossed the closest door open shoulder-first. 

“Rise and shine, Kid!”

A dog-like growl emanated from under the blankets, making Leon’s brows raise when Dante tore back the covers to reveal a young man. At least, Leon hoped Dante’s nickname wasn’t accurate. 

“Dante, you piece of shit. You can’t be in here,” the young man snarled, kicking his bare foot out toward Dante’s gut. Dante hopped back out of range with his grin still firmly in place. 

“Hey, the rule is I can’t be in a room with you alone. I brought a friend, so I am in the clear. I wanted to introduce you to him. Nero, this is Leon, our charming new applicant. Leon, this is our overpriced virgin, Nero.”

Nero sat up to look at Leon with even less interest than Vergil or Red. The young man’s messy white hair hung in his eyes more than Dante’s, and despite the boxers he wore, he had an oversized sweater on over them. His right hand also had a thick winter glove covering it. 

Leon gave another “Nice to meet you” while Nero yawned. Though it was clear Nero had no desire to speak to him, Leon had to ask. “How old are you anyway?”

Nero’s disinterest sank into a scowl in an instant. “Nineteen. Suck my dick.” 

Though Leon felt like he should have been insulted, the quip didn’t land as well in the middle of a brothel. “I think I’d have to pay for that,” he muttered, and Dante snorted. 

“A hefty sum too. For whatever reason, people are willing to pay a lot to sleep with a virgin. Personally, I think that should be a discount because it’s not like anyone’s first time is ever good.” Dante pinched Nero’s cheek and tugged, another low growl filling the room. “You definitely still act like a teenager,” Dante said. “All moody and hormonal. Getting laid would help you out if you’d stop threatening everyone who comes in to see you.”

“I will bite those fingers off.”

“Yeah, like that.” Looking back at Leon, Dante pulled his hand away just before Nero’s teeth could snap down on it. “Oh, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

A genuine laugh escaped Leon, though he was quick to hide it behind his hand. “No, I’ve had a few partners - men and women.” He’d slept with some for the job before too. Sex was as much of a tool as a fight for him and more useful than most interrogations. 

“That’s good,” Dante said. “We get all kinds here. Men, women, neither, both.” He shrugged. “Since you brought it up, I guess I should ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” He knew he could have passed for younger. Everyone liked to tell him how much of a baby-face he had, especially when he shaved, but Dante looked about his age, and Leon wanted to make sure they were as close to the same level as possible. When a target thought they had an easy way to control him, things could get dicey. 

“Oh, a little older than Red then, I think.” Dante nodded, his hand to his chin. “To be honest, he tells me a different age every time I ask, so I’m not entirely sure. I’m thirty-seven if you were curious.”

Leon stared. His expression remained blank, but his frantic thoughts assured him that Dante had to be joking. There was no way this man was out of his twenties, let alone halfway through his thirties. 

“You’re so old,” Nero said. “If you were honest about your age to clients, they wouldn’t want to sleep with you.” 

Dante gasped like he actually knew how to feel offended. “I’m still incredibly handsome and charming! And I’ll care what you have to say on the subject when you have any clients, Kid.”

Eyes narrowing, Nero hunched his shoulders and curled his hands to fists in the sheets. “Get out of my room.” 

With a click of his tongue, Dante turned for the door, pulling Leon along with an arm around his shoulders. “The moody teen needs his alone time,” Dante said. 

Leon waited until the door was closed behind them to ask, “Are you two related?” He was pretty sure white hair wasn’t genetic, but it was hard to deny the similarities between the two.

Humming a low note, Dante leaned more of his weight along Leon’s shoulders. “Depends on who you ask. We haven’t bothered with any tests, so who knows? Half-brother? Distant cousin? Dad has his own theory, but no one likes it.”

The answer was as oddly cryptic as most of what Dante said. Leon couldn’t help but wonder if he were playing along with some extended prank.

They headed up another flight of stairs to the fourth floor, which had been blank on the sketched maps. Though Leon expected another hall, the stairs stopped at a set of double doors. In front of each door was a young man of suspiciously indeterminate age. They stood guard as still as loyal dogs with their chins high despite being no taller than Leon’s shoulder. One had stark crimson hair, the other a cool blue, and their faces were identical. 

“We need in the office,” Dante said. “When Dad gets here, tell him to come meet us.” 

Both boys furrowed their brows, eyes locking on Leon. “Who is this?” one said.

“Should we throw him out?” asked the other. 

“He looks suspicious,” the first added. 

For the first time, Dante was the one looking annoyed. “He’s going to work here, so you two behave.”

Both boys perked up, eyes bright with curiosity. “He will work here? We will take good care of him, Master Dante,” the first chirped. 

Dante heaved a sigh. “Yeah-yeah, Leon, this is Angi and Rudra. It doesn’t really matter which one’s which. They’re our bouncers or butlers or something. Dad’s pets mostly. Anyway, are you going to let us in the office?”

The boys showed no sign of insult as they pushed in the doors behind them. The office inside was massive, bigger than any of the bedrooms. Other than all the knick-knacks and photos on the shelves lining the walls, though, the only thing in the room was a lone desk. It looked like real wood, heavy and shining with polish like the chair behind it. Clean light filtered in through the pale, lacy curtained windows. Dante didn’t bother flicking on any other lights as he pulled Leon inside. 

Another set of double doors lay across the room, too big to be a bathroom, but Leon knew better than to ask after them just yet. 

“Here’s Dad’s office,” Dante said with an underwhelming shrug. “Not like he really needs one. I think he just likes the feel of it. I’m sure he’ll be a few more minutes.” Stopping just in front of the desk, Dante turned to face Leon with another heavy-eyed smile. Their chests almost touched, and Leon remained placid as Dante’s fingertips traced down his jawline. “Maybe we should try that mock interview again.”

“Are you telling me you’d be done in a few minutes?”

Laughter hit Dante so hard that he wheezed breathlessly and leaned over enough that their foreheads pressed together for a moment. “Oh, I knew I’d like you. I bet you can charm Dad pretty quick too.”

“Is this what the real interview is going to be like then?” Leon had prepared for as much, down to a condom and lube in his pocket. He hoped they would at least let him have that much.

“Are you asking if you have to sleep with my dad?” Though Dante’s brows rose, he didn’t look surprised. “Nah, he’s pretty old-fashioned. He just likes to ask some questions, but I guess if you wanted…” Dante shrugged. “If you want a real mock-interview, I can give you one.”

Without waiting for an answer, Dante took a seat on the desk and crossed his legs. “Question one is usually something like ‘Why do you want to work at this brothel?’”

“Honestly? I heard the pay is good. I don’t have a lot of practical skills for a resume, but my body’s not bad. I can sell that.” They weren’t all lies, and they rolled off his tongue with ease. 

“”Not bad’ huh?” Dante bit his tongue between his teeth in a teasing smile. “You want to prove it?”

“You don’t stay on topic long.”

“If I have a good opportunity to ask an attractive man to strip, how could I pass it up? Besides, you can’t be shy here. You’re going to be doing a lot of stripping.”

“Fair point,” though Leon couldn’t tell if Dante were joking. Dante joked even when he was being serious. “But I’m not sure an office is the best place for it.”

“We can go back down to the stripper pole if you’d like. I know I’d prefer it.”

Leon rolled his eyes to hide his irritation as he pulled off his hooded sweater. Losing quick access to his gun for some joke wasn’t ideal. The last thing he wanted was to fall into a trap completely naked, but he didn’t feel any of the warning signs of a trap. If the look in Dante’s eyes had been predatory, Leon would have made him back off. Instead, Dante’s gaze ran over him like a dog sitting and waiting for a treat. Eager joy shined in the pale blue even as Leon just took off his shirt. 

“You could make at least a bit of a show of it,” Dante said with a smile. “You act like you’re about to take a shower. Alone.”

“I’m in jeans and a t-shirt. This is as exciting as it gets.” 

“You can borrow some of my clothes if you want.”

“So you can get me in-”

“So you’ll be getting in my pants, yeah.”

Leon couldn’t help but smile against Dante’s overjoyed grin. If something killed him on this mission, he was sure it would have to do with Dante. As he started to unbutton his pants Dante’s hand closed around his wrist. The touch was so light that he only felt the warmth, no pressure. 

“You sure have a lot of scars, Blondie.” Dante’s voice and eyes had softened. Instead of hunger, his gaze traced all the old cuts and star-shaped bullet wounds with calm curiosity. “Are you safe? Do you owe someone something?”

Leon froze. He had never seen a target even pretend to care about him so much. After some slow breaths that failed to turn into words, he managed to speak again. “As long as I’m safe around everyone here, I’m safe. I don’t owe anyone dangerous money. I’ve been through some stuff, but they’re all old scars.” It wasn’t true, and the way Dante’s brow furrowed proved that he knew better, but Leon forced a lopsided smile. “I guess they don’t look great. I hope I’m not too damaged of merchandise.” 

A deeper frown carved into Dante’s face, and he brought both hands up to Leon’s cheeks. His grasp was still gentle but firm enough to keep their eyes locked together. “I know you’re joking, but I need you to understand that you’re not an object. No matter what a client says, no matter what you say to get them off, you are not their toy. They have to respect you.”

Maybe that was true at the brothel, but Leon couldn’t bring himself to nod or say anything in agreement. His real job saw him as nothing but a tool, one that could break and be replaced. 

He wasn’t sure whether to curse or feel relieved when the door opened behind him. Dante’s face instantly became as relaxed as usual as he leaned over to look past Leon. “Oh, hi, Dad.” 

“Afternoon, Dante. Who is your friend?”

The voice was just as bright as Dante’s with none of the layers of teasing. Crossing his arms over his chest, Leon forced himself to turn toward the man. Sparda - they had many pictures of him, too many for someone with no obtainable records. He looked just as young in person as he had in all of the photos. Leon would have guessed Sparda was in his thirties before, but learning that Dante already had that position made pinning Sparda’s age even harder. 

Their intel had assumed that the family was a set of brothers. Leon was starting to wonder if they were just vampires instead. “This is Leon,” Dante said before Leon could think of how to apologize for his shirt being on the floor. “He’s applying for a job with us.”

Sparda’s smile looked as genuine as his son’s. He had the same white hair but was noticeably taller as he walked closer. Under a black suit jacket, he wore a purple vest like Dante’s red and Vergil’s blue ones. Like Nero, he also had gloves, but they were the sort of formal white ones that Leon had only ever seen in old movies, and he tugged one off before extending the hand to Leon. “An applicant? We haven’t had one in a while. I should really invest in another chair so I could let you sit while we talk. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Leon. You may call me Sparda.”

Sparda’s handshake was as firm as that of all the military men Leon had met, and his eyes were twice as sharp. Even Dante’s gaze didn’t compare. Leon felt like he couldn’t have looked away if the room were on fire around him. “May I ask your last name?” he heard Sparda say. 

He almost said Kennedy. The K formed on his tongue the same way his first name had slipped from him, but he knew better this time. Swallowing the sound, he gave the standard polite smile of an interviewee. “Redfield, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” He couldn’t remember the fake name he was supposed to give, so he went with the first one that came to mind instead. “Would you mind if I put my shirt back on for the interview… or should I be naked?”

“Whatever you like is fine, Mr. Redfield.” Sparda pronounced the name with a lilt of amusement. “I suppose you’ll be joining us then, Dante.”

Dante shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

Once Leon had pulled his shirt and sweatshirt back on, he saw Sparda’s hand raising up toward his face. His body tensed against him, caught between thinking this was the same disinterest in personal space as Dante and the possibility that Sparda had noticed his hidden pistol. Sparda’s hand slowed before brushing Leon’s hair back into place for him. “You’re the cautious sort,” Sparda said. “That’s good in this line of work. Please take the chair. You’re our guest, and it’s rude for me to make you stand.”

Leon tried to argue that standing was fine for him, but he found himself seated in it from all of Sparda’s polite insistence. From a desk drawer, Sparda produced a thin stack of papers and a pen that he used atop a thick book on his arm rather than his desk. Some of the questions made sense. 

“Why would you like to work at this brothel?” and “How many sexual partners have you had?”

Some made less sense. 

“Do you know any good restaurants around here?” and “Do you know how to whistle?”

But the odd ones didn’t trip Leon up as much as when Sparda asked, “Is there any way you could be touched to which you would be opposed?”

Leon’s brow pinched as he considered the question, but he already knew the  _ right  _ answer. “No, I’m open to anything.”

Sparda sat at the edge of his desk like Dante in the most unprofessional interview Leon had since his last time being interrogated. All of the other answers Sparda had taken with a nod and a few jots of his pen along the papers, but at this one, the man paused and looked to Leon with kind eyes that seemed to tear through him. “You can be honest. Most of my boys have their preferences.”

“Oh, um.” Leon had to glance away, his cheeks growing hot. “My neck, I guess. Touching isn’t so bad, but I don’t really like pressure or… collars. Bites...” He prayed that they wouldn’t ask for any reason or explanation. By some miracle, Sparda nodded and scratched the pen on the paper. 

“I would be quite opposed to any clients attempting such things against one in your position,” he said. 

“My position?” Leon echoed, but Sparda didn’t seem to hear him. 

“I have one other thing I need to cover for this interview, a necessary evil I’m afraid. I need to be sure that you’re fully assertive and comfortable in your ability to turn down unwanted advances.”

“Dad means he needs to be sure you can say ‘no,’” Dante said. 

“I suppose that’s a simpler way of putting it. You see, clients sometimes think they should be allowed anything they want, but you are always allowed to turn them down, regardless of how they try to pressure you. We’re going to do a quick test. I will ask something of you, and you tell me no in any way that you’d like. I just need to make sure you’re clear about it, alright?”

“Alright,” Leon said with hesitation. It sounded too easy to even be called a test, and the explanation made for a pretty insufficient way to echo a real-life situation. Still, he wasn’t going to complain about an infiltration being too easy. 

Sparda pulled his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over the desk. His right glove was still missing. “Then we’ll begin.” He stood, looking so much taller while Leon was left sitting, and placed his bare palm to Leon’s chest. 

Leon opened his mouth to ask if this was the part he should object to, but his eyes caught Sparda’s pale stare again, and his throat went dry. He could feel his heartbeat trilling against the hand on his chest. A strange exhaustion came over him, one that made his arms and legs feel too heavy to move. His breathing slowed, but his heart kept hammering away like it was the only piece of him that knew better. 

“Leon,” Sparda said in a dark, warm voice that was nothing like it had been before. His eyes were darker, too, a storm closing in. “I can see you’re a good boy. You know how to follow orders. If I told you to get on your knees, wouldn’t you?”

Leon’s teeth snapped down hard on his tongue because he wanted to say yes. Sparda’s words felt like they were sinking in through his skin and running through his veins, and it felt  _ good _ . He wanted to keep hearing that voice. He wanted to listen. 

“Or maybe I should ask you to get down on all fours,” Sparda continued. “My good little dog. You’d beg for me, wouldn’t you?”

Leon’s mouth tasted like blood, and his heart felt like it might burst at any second, but he  _ wanted  _ it, and it was really pissing him off. He didn’t feel himself go for his gun, didn’t realize it was in his hand until the butt of it had smashed down on Sparda’s arm. 

Sparda’s eyes were wide and the same bright blue they’d been before as he stepped back clutching his elbow. “Whatever the hell that is stops now,” Leon hissed, the gun raised between them, but the pressure and exhaustion vanished. His slow breaths turned quick in a frantic effort to catch up to his pulse. 

He looked just as surprised as Sparda and hesitantly lowered the gun. Well, so much for that mission. “Uh,” he attempted just as Sparda broke out into another smile.

“That was very good! It’s been ages since a human broke through, and hitting me is a very good strategy, so I do encourage you to use that if clients give you any issues, though I will try to pick your clients with care, of course.”

“Pretty disappointed he didn’t shoot you,” Dante said. Leon had forgotten his presence entirely and hearing his voice brought the heat back to Leon’s cheeks. “You went pretty hard on him, Dad, or are you just into him?”

“No-no! I would never! It was just a test! Besides, I can already tell that you are-”

“Wait.” Leon held up a hand, the other firmly in his lap in hopes that no one had noticed how infuriatingly turned-on he was. “What was that?”

“Oh, did you not know?” Sparda asked. “I thought Dante would have explained it to you already. Well, I am a demon, and strong demonic power has an ability to hold sway over weaker beings, so it’s important for me to make sure you can break through such demonic power. Shooting me would have been justified, but I appreciate that you only broke my arm instead.”

“Oh,” Leon said because he had no idea how else to respond. “So, did I get the job then?”

“Yes, of course! I will have to get you a uniform. I think you will look nice in green. Dante, perhaps you should look after your friend for now, yes?”

Leon could see Dante nodding out of the corner of his eye, and his thoughts turned to how he could possibly get Dante to leave so he could get to a cold shower immediately. Unfortunately, as soon as Sparda left the room, Dante hopped down from the desk and took his father’s place in front of Leon. “Sorry about that,” Dante said. “He did go kind of hard on you, probably because he could tell you would be tough. Are you alright?”

“Uh… yes. So you’re a demon then?”

“Just half. I can’t do much of the fancy demonic power thing, so you don’t need to be on guard around me. Hang on, did you know that demons were real?” 

Leon nodded. He’d fought plenty, but they were all feral, monstrous things. They weren’t handsome brothel owners who made him want to take humiliating orders. “I’ve run into some before. I, uh, sorry about the gun. I was just-”

“I keep two on me most of the time. It’s best practice in a place like this. Anyway, do you want me to help you out with that?” 

Seeing Dante’s hand gesture between his legs made Leon cover his face with his hand. He felt dizzy from the heat of his blush. “Sorry… sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Dante said through a warm chuckle. Leon could hear him getting to his knees. Warm, heavy hands touched low on Leon’s thighs. “Dad’s damn good at that. I wanted you to beat him, wanted you to break through, but damn the idea of you on your knees did me in a little. Feeling pretty bad about that. I’d like to make up for it if that’s alright with you.”

A laugh broke from Leon before he could stop it. “You just want to finally get my pants off.” His hand slipped from his eyes to his mouth to see the same excited, begging desire in Dante’s eyes. The lying part of Leon’s thoughts told him that this was good because he could use Dante later on. The honest part said he just really wanted Dante to touch him. “How do I say yes?” Leon asked.

Dante bit his lower lip through his smile. “That works for me, Blondie.”

Once Dante had the jeans unbuttoned, Leon was quick to raise his hips so Dante could yank them down to his calves. His boxers dragged down with them, leaving him fully erect in front of Dante’s face and wondering if he’d ever made a worse decision. 

“So Blondie is a good nickname for you then,” Dante said, laughing even as Leon smacked a hand to his forehead and shoved his head back. 

“I knew you’d say something. I just knew. Can we get to the part where your mouth is full so you can’t talk?”

“Unfortunately for you, I can still talk with my mouth full.” Sticking out his tongue, Dante leaned in and ran it flat up from the base of Leon’s cock. It was enough to make Leon shiver, his legs already weak with the pleasure of finally being touched. His hand clamped down hard over his mouth to keep from making a sound as Dante’s firm hands kneaded up his thighs. 

“I’m glad I got to see you like this first,” Dante said with a warm rumble tinging his voice almost like Sparda’s. “I would have been pretty jealous if it had been someone else here.”

Leon couldn’t find another quip. His thoughts melted away as Dante’s hot mouth surrounded the head of his cock. No matter how deep he breathed through his nose, he still felt light-headed. When Dante dropped down and swallowed the shaft, Leon had to take his hand off his mouth to gasp. His hand caught the fabric at Dante’s shoulder instead and held tight enough to turn his knuckles white. 

When Dante’s laugh hummed against Leon’s cock, he couldn’t stop a strangled moan from escaping him. He hadn’t been with anyone in so long. He was supposed to be the one in control, but he wanted to become weak and used under Dante’s warm hands and mouth. 

“Fuck,” Leon hissed. “This is really good. You’re good.” He knew he was babbling, but the way Dante bobbed his head just  _ slow  _ enough, and the way his tongue toyed with everything it touched made Leon’s toes curl and his hips writhe no matter ho he tried to keep them still. Dante welcomed the shallow thrusts, making no effort to grab Leon’s hips. 

“I can’t,” Leon panted, his face burning with a flush. “It’s too much. Alright, you win. I have to come.”

Leon wasn’t sure what he had expected at that point. His brain was too fried to think that much ahead, but he didn’t expect Dante to swallow his cock and every bit of cum as the orgasm tore through him. For all his pride, he whimpered at the feeling, his whole body trembling. 

Once he was done, heavy limbed and gasping in the chair, Dante leaned back to sit on his heels and wiped the drool from his chin. “Anyway, welcome to the brothel,” he said. “I look forward to working with you.”

Leon was absolutely, positively sure he would die there, but he couldn’t find it in him to care right then. “Looking forward to it,” he answered with a worn-out laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 8k words for one quick blowjob. If that's not a sad summary of how I operate, I don't know what is. I haven't written in third-person in a minute ngl, but I'm giving it a go for this one since porn is occasionally a thing, so I hope I do okay with it.


	2. A Day Off (Red, Credo/Nero, Sparda/Vergil)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero gets some sex-ed, Red is perceptive for an idiot, and Vergil and Sparda always know more than they let on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof I wrote this one in a day, and I'm feeling that right now. I have Dante/Vergil tagged because that's going to show up more overall, but it's kind of Sparda/Vergil/Dante in general. 
> 
> Anyway, let's talk about why the hell Nero actually works here.

The brothel was closed Sundays. According to Sparda, it wasn’t out of any respect or reverence for church practices. They just didn’t get as many clients on a day when people thought their behavior mattered more than on other days. For Nero, the only difference between Sundays and every other day was that everyone else laid around being useless just like him. Sparda liked to drag them all down to share meals in the foyer, or the “living room” as he called it, so they all sat in an uneven circle around the couches. Nero preferred the arm of the couch that was as much in a corner and away from everyone else as he could get. Red always took the spot next to him to snag bits of his food while he pretended to care.

They’d ordered Chinese takeout again, but Nero handed off his standard order to Red. The idea of eating sticky fried chicken for the fourth time that week was as unappealing as Dante’s usual graphic tales of his sexual exploits. 

“Like, I’m not opposed to the feet thing,” he was saying between bites of noodles. “I just don’t have good feet, so I don’t get why anyone comes to me for that fetish. Wouldn’t they want Modeus or something?”

Nero didn’t understand any of what he was saying. There was a feet thing? Frowning, he glanced around at everyone else to gauge how he was supposed to react to this. Vergil seemed to have learned how to tune out everything Dante said, and he ate rice in an armchair with the same posture as someone at a fancy restaurant. Leon, who Dante had squeezed himself next to, was looking down from under a furrowed brow toward Dante’s shoes. 

“Some people are just fucking gross,” Red offered. “Maybe they’ve got a thing for big, ugly calloused feet.”

“Ouch,” Dante said. “They’re not that bad.” 

Modeus seemed as distant from the conversation as Vergil, but he spoke up. “You could always get a pedicure. They’re quite relaxing. Humans seem to have this cute interest in feet.”

“So you do get a lot of footjobs then, huh, pretty boy?”

Modeus chuckled. “Get? No, but I certainly give a few.” 

Turning to Red, Nero tried to keep his voice low. “What’s a footjob?”

Red’s laugh was so sudden that he inhaled a piece of chicken. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hacked it back up, and he was still laughing as he fought air back into his lungs. Nero wished he’d just choked to death instead. 

“You don’t know what a footjob is, Nero?” Sparda asked from his seat across the room. 

The tension in Nero’s jaw was enough to make his temples throb, but after a slow, hissed exhale, he forced himself to speak. “Well, it’s not like I’ve had any lessons or anything. They don’t teach this shit in school, so yeah, I don’t know.” 

“Father, have you checked to see if Nero has any base knowledge of sex?” Vergil asked, his focus still on his food. 

Nero took a sharp breath to stop himself from tearing across the room. The smugness in Vergil’s voice always crawled under his skin like an itch that wouldn’t leave. “I know how sex works,” he snarled. “It’s not complicated.”

“You should let me teach him,” Red cut in. “Hands-on experience is the best way.”

Sparda laughed at what was clearly a joke, but the humor in his voice entwined with a threat. “Red, my boy, if you touch him, I can do far worse than increase your debt.” 

Though he nodded, Red didn’t appear fazed. Nero didn’t know how. When Sparda put on that fake smile, the air swam with a strangling darkness that made Nero’s skin crawl. He knew he wasn’t the only one by the way Leon’s chin jerked up and Modeus’s eyes narrowed on the other demon. 

Red was just stupid. At least, that was Nero’s best guess. 

“I suppose some sort of class on the ins and outs of sex would not be unreasonable,” Vergil said. “We wouldn’t want the virgin harming himself out of ignorance.” 

Though Vergil’s eyes were down, Nero hoped he could feel every ounce of rage in the glare leveled at him. “Yeah, would be a real shame if someone got hurt,” Nero said. 

“'Ins and outs of sex,'” Dante whispered with a smirk, and Leon snorted.

Nero hated all of them. He wished he could just sink into the couch and disappear, especially when Sparda spoke up again. 

“If you need instruction, then we are certainly equipped to provide it. Lesson one is lubrication. You should keep at least a gallon on hand at all times. Maybe two.”

“Lesson one should be cleaning,” Vergil said. “That comes first if you allow your clients control of the situation.” 

“You should probably start with a self-defense lesson in this place,” Leon added. 

Dante held up his hand. “If he just needs a run-down on kinks, we don’t really need to start at step one.”

Sighing, Modeus poked at his food with his chopsticks. “Honestly, you’re all going to confuse the boy. I don’t think now is the-”

“You don’t need lube for sex,” Red said. 

It was as if Sparda had turned up his full demonic power right then. Everyone went silent with shock that left Nero struggling to keep a straight face. Even Vergil looked disturbed at the idea. “Please tell me you are not talking about anal sex,” he said, each word spoken with individual distinction.

“Is there another kind of sex?” Red asked as he took another bite of chicken. 

Vergil’s hands found his face, a slow, muffled exhale drawing from him. 

“Oh, you mean like with a vagina?” Red said. “Right, I forget. I’m always getting pegged.”

Nero’s brow pinched. Pegged for what?

“Father,” Vergil said with the slow hiss of a threat. “If you do not get these two trained and reasonably intelligent, I will throw them both out myself.”

Nero jumped to his feet, his arm throbbing with pulses of power so icy that they burned through his veins. “I’m not an idiot! Quit acting like you’re so much better than me. You’re just a whore too!”

“I’m a whore who works. Even that’s better than one who doesn’t.” 

With a solid thunk, Nero’s boot slammed on the coffee table standing between him and tearing out Vergil’s throat. Before he could jump over it or snap it in two, a hand on his wrist yanked him back. He started to turn, ready to tear into whoever felt like getting in his way, but the sight of the firm look in Red’s eyes stopped him. Nero had never seen Red even close to serious before. 

“You didn’t get to eat,” Red said with a smile that didn’t match his eyes. “Let’s go get something else. You’re sick of Chinese, right? Haven’t been out in a while.”

Rage still boiled under Nero’s skin, but he yanked his wrist from Red’s grasp with a “Fine, but I’ll go by myself. I don’t need company.”

Storming out felt like losing, a retreat with his tail tucked between his legs. But as soon as he breathed in the grimy city air from outside, relief sank into his shoulders that he hadn’t hurt anyone, not even Vergil who deserved it. Holding his right arm across his stomach, he focused on smothering the pressure trying to escape from the cursed limb. 

Hearing a voice at his side made him jump. “So where are we going?” Turning, he found Red there in a ratty, old coat the clashed with the vest under it. 

“I wanted to go alone,” Nero said, but his voice had no more bite to it.

“You know how the boss gets when we go out alone, all worried and whiney. It’ll save you trouble later if I tag along.”

Every now and then, Red was right. Sparda had been overbearing with Nero from the first time they met, or at least, Nero figured it was from their first meeting. He’d been near-unconscious at the time, so he didn’t remember it well. He remembered the demons more than anything, the way they kept fighting even after they’d lost limbs or their guts had spilled out. No matter how hard he swung his sword, they kept coming at him like they felt nothing. They’d foamed at the mouth like rabid dogs, and Nero felt true fear from a demon for the first time in years. 

He’d been so sure he was dead once they knocked him down, so waking up in an overdecorated room with a giant bed left him wondering if Hell was much different than he’d imagined. Even after he found out he wasn’t in Hell, he was still surrounded by demons, weird demons who kept bringing him trays of food and looking after his wounds. 

“Do whatever you want,” Nero decided as he took off down the street, “but I’m not buying you anything.” The only money he had was on loan from Sparda anyway. He didn’t have anything of his own except his sword and his gun. 

Red kept at his side. “That’s fine. I can pay for myself. Where are we going?”

“There’s some Italian place a couple of blocks over. I like their pesto.” It wasn’t as good as back home, but it was something. 

“That place? Shit, they’re fancy. I guess I can pay for it,” Red grumbled, shoving his hand in his pocket to pull out the handful of bills he’d brought with him. 

Though Nero was still new to the mainland currency, he felt sure the little mom and pop restaurant was nothing close to fancy. Their tablecloths were plastic, and their booths had tears in the fabric. Though he raised a brow at the comment, he decided to ask about something else. 

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you stop me from fighting Vergil?”

“Oh, that.” Red frowned and folded the crumpled bills back into his pocket. “I didn’t care if you fought with Vergil. Like, don’t get me wrong, he would have wiped the floor with you.” 

As much as Nero wanted to argue, he knew Red was right. Nero had seen the way Vergil fought, the teleportation and the hail of crystal swords. It was beyond what Nero had ever faced from a demon, and he was still trying to calculate ways to deal with the barrage of attacks. 

“But Vergil  _ just _ would have kicked your ass and been done with it. I wasn’t worried about him. It was Dante.”

“Dante?” Confusion twisted across Nero’s face as he watched the dark look in Red’s eyes. 

“He gets a certain way when people insult or threaten his brother. I think you were too focused on Vergil to see it, but if you’d gotten over that table, I think Dante would have cut into you one way or another. He was pissed.” Red growled out a sigh. “Everyone’s all touchy-feely in that fucking brothel. I was better off out here. I don’t really feel like seeing you get ripped in half, so you look after yourself, alright? And watch out for that weird new guy too. He’s damn shady. I don’t trust him.” Red’s eyes narrowed. “Dante likes him too much.” 

Nero thought Red was much weirder than Leon ever could be, but he kept his mouth shut, instead wondering if Dante would ever really hurt him. Dante was never serious about anything, even his fights. In the months Nero had been at the brothel, he’d already seen a few demons try to storm in and claim Sparda’s head. Not one had made it near Sparda yet. Vergil and Dante took care of most of them, and Dante cracked jokes the entire time. 

Trying to fight Vergil didn’t seem so different from going after Sparda, so Nero couldn't understand why Dante would get weird about it. 

At the restaurant, Nero let Red eat all the bread from the basket brought to their table, but he had to ask, “How the hell do you eat so much?”

Red took a moment to drink the strawberry soda he’d ordered, his eyes on the salt and pepper shakers. “Dunno. I spent a long time without much food, so I’m just always hungry now, I guess. Boss says it’s because I use my healing too much, but he doesn’t know anything.” 

“Why do you use your healing so much?” Nero asked even though he knew Red wasn’t going to like the question. Nero had never heard Red talk about himself much. Vergil, Dante, and even Modeus seemed honest in answering offhand questions, but this one made Red look at Nero from the narrowed corners of his eyes. 

“It’s nothing you gotta worry about. Why are you asking so many questions all of the sudden?”

“You came with me to get lunch. It’s called small talk.” 

“Fine, then I get to ask questions too. Where are you from?”

Through his glove, the clawed tips of Nero’s cursed hand drummed along the tabletop. That was the only sound between them for a stretch as they stared each other down. “Where are you from?” Nero shot back, hoping Red would be just as leery of the question. 

“I grew up in Limbo City, but I’ve been in Capulet for years now.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

From the beginning, Nero hadn’t been able to convince anyone that he lived in Capulet. He’d looked like too much of a lost traveler when they found him, his duffel bag and all its contents shredded across the ground from the demons’ claws. He couldn’t hide his accent, and he didn’t know the currency. Everyone knew he was from somewhere else, but they couldn’t place where, and he was fine with that. They had no right to know. 

“I’ll pay for your food if you drop it,” Nero said. 

Red’s smile pulled into a smirk. “Oh? Sick, thanks. How about this? You don’t ask me anything, I won’t ask you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Nero’s voice lowered to a grumble. “Not like you answer my questions anyway.”

“What? You mean like the footjob thing?” Red asked just as the waiter returned with their food. The man was quick to set the plates down in front of them and dart back to the kitchen without a word while Nero wondered if he could kill Red with just a butter knife. “A footjob is just a handjob but with your feet,” Red continued like nothing had happened. “They’re kind of awkward to do, but it’s pretty easy money compared to other stuff.”

“I liked it better when I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“You’re cute,” Red laughed before shoving a bite of pizza in his mouth. At least something would finally shut him up for a minute, Nero thought. 

While they ate, Nero listened to the quiet bustle of the lunch crowd and wondered if he could have gotten a job somewhere reasonable like a restaurant. As he started to take another bite, an out-of-place voice made him freeze. His heart instantly began to race. 

“Um, sorry, I don’t understand this tipping thing very well.” A light accent touched each word, one Nero hadn’t heard in months from anyone but himself. “We don’t do this where I’m from. Is this amount fair and reasonable?”

If it had just been the accent, Nero could have kept his head down and hoped they passed him by. He might not have even noticed to begin with. No, it was the voice. It was Credo’s voice. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

“Are you alright?” he heard Red say, but he couldn’t even think of responding. Panic lanced through him and jumbled his thoughts like a shaken can of soda. Pulling some amount of bills from his pocket, Nero dropped them from his trembling hand to the table, stood, and darted for the door. Red called after him in the only way that could have made his panic worse. “Nero! Where are you going?”

Nero couldn’t remember how to breathe. He couldn’t see where he was going, and he could only feel the sharp, agonizing beating of his heart until his hands hit the front doors of the brothel, and he fell inside. Frantic wheezing filled his ears. As his eyelids fluttered heavily against him, he realized it was his own breathing.

When he felt hands on his shoulders, he tried to pull back, but a low, careful voice stopped him. “Slow down. You need to breathe. Come on, you’re not getting any air like that. Here, with me.” He heard a loud, deliberate breath that he did his best to follow. Getting air in his lungs made his whole body feel heavy, but another arm hooked with his to keep him upright, and another low voice followed. 

“Jeez, Kid, you’re going to be alright. Take it easy.”

Dante sounded odd without any playful tone in his words, but it was impossible not to recognize the fiery demonic presence that always surrounded him, and as the dark edges faded from Nero’s vision, he found Leon holding him at an arm’s length and reminding him how to breathe.

“Is someone trying to hurt you?” Leon asked, his voice still calm despite how serious he looked. “Are you injured?”

“Fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” He knew he didn’t sound fine. His breathing still came in quick bursts, and he realized the claws of his right hand had latched onto Dante’s arm and bitten through to his skin. The deep red seeping through Dante’s sleeve didn’t seem to bother him, but Nero’s throat swelled shut at the sight. “I can’t- I can’t,” he gasped. “I need to get out of here.”

The sound of the door creaking open again made Nero freeze, but Red’s voice filled the room. “What the hell was that?”

“Did you do something?” Dante asked.

“No,” Red snarled as he stalked up to Nero. Leon stepped out of the way just before Red’s arm could shove him back. “He just got freaked and ran all of a sudden. I looked around for a demon, but I didn’t see anything. What got you so freaked out?”

Someone knocked on the open door, two taps with a gloved hand. Nero knew that sound. Credo had always knocked before coming into his room. His body turned against his better judgment to face the man in the doorway. Confusion and worry were written across Credo’s face. “Nero,” he said with some hesitation. His eyes flicked to the glaring figures around Nero. “Um, are you alright?”

A telltale light flashed in the corner of Nero’s eye before he saw Red’s sword raise up to point toward Credo. “Who’s this? Do I need to take care of him?” On his other side, Nero caught sight of one of Dante’s guns ready in his hand. 

Nero’s arms shot out in front of both of them. “Cut it out.” His voice still wanted to shake against him, but he forced it steady. “He’s fine. Back off. Credo, just… You should just leave.” 

But Credo had never listened to him, just like he’d never listened to Credo. Taking a step inside, Credo leveled his own glare at the other men. “Nero, who are these people? Are they keeping you here?”

The door, which had been left hanging open, seemed to drift shut of its own accord. The shadow from behind it took shape, and a hand latched onto Credo’s shoulder. “You’re in my home, I’m afraid,” Sparda said with an icy smile. “You do not make demands. Now, let’s be polite about this situation. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Credo’s stare was so hateful, so venomous, that Sparda had to admit some respect for how brash he was. By all appearances, trying to smother the man into behaving with demonic power did nothing. He had clear experience with dealing in such matters, but Sparda kept his smile. Nero had requested that no harm come to this one, so for the moment, Sparda would comply. 

Credo seemed to think the same. He behaved as well. “As Nero said, my name is Credo. I’m not here to cause any trouble. Nero is family to me, so I came to take him back home.” 

A quick glance to Nero showed Sparda there was some truth to the statement. Nero appeared far too anxious for a lie.

“You don’t look related,” Red said, and Credo winced. 

“Not by blood, no, but we’re family.”

In all the months they’d kept Nero at the brothel, this was the first Sparda had heard of the boy’s past. He’d refused to answer most questions and become hostile at others. Though Sparda never wanted to pressure the boy into giving answers, he couldn’t deny curiosity now that answers had arrived in the flesh. Vergil must have felt the same because Sparda could sense his son hanging by the stairs overlooking the rest of them. 

Vergil had always been the most cautious one among them. From the night they found Nero bleeding out in a park surrounded by demons, Vergil had been hesitant to bring Nero in. “We could just give him a vital star,” he said. “Just because he shares some features with us, doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. If anything, it means the opposite.” 

Dante had insisted, though, and Vergil was quick to cave under his brother’s pleas. Sparda had carried the boy back to the brothel, listening to his ragged breathing and wondering if they would be able to save him. 

Nero’s demonic blood was impossible to deny with the glowing hide covering one of his arms, but Sparda could smell how diluted it was. No more than a third, he guessed. The rest was human, and it left Nero struggling to heal for days. 

“He does share our blood, what little he has,” Sparda admitted to Vergil the first time it was just the two of them with the unconscious boy, when Dante had to go attend to a client. “It’s too significant to be a distant descendant of mine, but I cannot fathom a way where he could be a son of mine either. Besides, his demonic blood is too slight for that, less than yours certainly.”

“Do you think he’s Dante’s?” Vergil asked, not looking up from a book in his hands. At Dante’s request, he’d seated himself at the boy’s bedside, but he rarely looked at Nero. 

“It’s possible.” Walking up to both of them, Sparda placed a hand against Nero’s cheek and felt the fever burning the pale skin. “Or he could be yours.” 

Vergil made a hum of acknowledgment, but his expression did not change. He turned another page in his book before he spoke. “If either case were true, does it mean anything?”

“It would mean his life is in constant danger. It would mean we may be able to give him a family he might not have had before.”

Vergil looked up from his book to meet his father’s eyes. “This is a brothel. Our presence together attracts more demons than he ever would alone. You and I both know the ones from the park were anomalies. Something was wrong with them. He clearly fought well on his own despite the odds against him. I believe he would have had no trouble with average demons. We could give him monetary assistance away from here, and he would likely do much better that way than to know his closest relatives are incestuous sex workers.”

Sparda couldn’t keep the worry from his face as he slipped his hand from Nero’s cheek and placed it to Vergil’s. “I know this isn’t the life you envisioned, Son. I will give you any life you wish for, as far from here as it takes. You can say the word, and I will make it happen. You do not have to stay here for my sake or for Dante’s.”

A rare smile eased Vergil’s expression, and he leaned into his father’s touch, letting his eyes drift shut. “Perhaps it’s not what I envisioned, but that doesn’t mean I’m not content here. As odd as this life is, I have both of you close. I know you’re safe. I know if I ever wished to put an end to this work, you would let me, and I would stop if I grew bored of it, but I would always remain at your side, Father. Besides, someone must look after Dante and all these strays he brings in. We’ll be overrun soon enough.” 

Nero woke a few times over the passing days, bleary with fever and incoherence. He’d mutter names and ask for water or blankets while shoving away any stranger who came too close. The first time his eyes opened with clarity, his gaze swept the room with wide-eyed caution before finding Sparda and settling into a fury and distrust that had rarely left his face since. 

“Good morning,” Sparda said. “Or rather, good afternoon. Usually, my boys are the ones looking after you, but they’re working at the moment. Are you feeling alright? Would you like some water?”

“Where is this? Who are you?”

“My apologies. My name is Sparda, and this-”

“Sparda?”

“Yes.”

“Is that a joke?”

Sparda’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of how his name could be funny. The boy must have heard some of the legends. “If it helps, you can just think of me as a Sparda and not the Sparda.” 

Sometimes it was just easier to lie, and it worked in this case. The boy accepted it with a nod. “So where are we?”

“Well, you are in the brothel I own, but please understand that no one has touched you except to see to your wounds. I run a reputable and reasonably legal business, you see. We simply took you in to see to your wounds. A usual hospital may have had some concerns about your arm, so this was the better option.”

The boy’s wide eyes turned to his exposed arm. He appeared much more concerned about it than the brothel. “Oh, shit. Look, it’s not anything weird. I mean, yeah, it’s weird, but it’s not evil or anything.”

“You just have some demonic blood,” Sparda said to help calm him. “I understand that it is nothing to fear. I myself am a demon. My sons are both half-demons. They have mixed blood much like yourself.”

“Oh. Okay. Good to know.” The boy’s eyes flicked back and forth as though trying to read something in his mind. “So do demons work here? At the brothel, I mean.” 

“Yes, I have some demons, and my sons, and another curious one that would take some explaining.”

Rather than find any oddities in the statement, the boy's uncertainties vanished. He looked Sparda square in the eye and said something that Sparda still did not understand even months later as he looked between Nero and the man who called him family. 

“Are you hiring? I want a job. I just have to fuck people, right? I can do that.”

Sparda smiled to hide the worry threatening to show in his face. “Apologies, but I hadn’t heard your name yet. Could I get that first?”

Hiring Nero may have been a mistake. Vergil certainly thought so, and they’d yet to make any money off of his presence. Credo was the first man to come see him in all that time. “Nero,” Credo continued with caution, taking another step despite Sparda’s firm grip on his shoulder. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but please come home. Kyrie is so worried about you. I’m… worried about you.”

“I’m not leaving,” Nero hissed. “Go back, and tell Kyrie I’m fine here. I’ve got a job. I don’t need Fortuna.” 

On reflex, Sparda’s hand jerked back from Credo, and he heard a sharp inhale from where Vergil remained upstairs. The last thing they needed was Fortuna’s attention. 

“You have a job?” Credo echoed, clearly stalling for time. “Um, that’s good. What do you do?” Sparda wished Nero would look at him for just a moment. If he’d seen the frantic look in Sparda’s eyes, perhaps he would have reconsidered his next statement. 

“Yeah, I work at this brothel. I’m a whore. I’m very good at it.” The way he averted his eyes and pulled his shoulders up by his ears made his lie apparent, but Credo appeared too shocked to notice. 

His eyes were wide yet empty. The longer he didn’t speak, the redder Nero’s face burned. “No,” Credo managed at length. “No, Nero, you can’t. Please, Nero, we can just go home. I know I didn’t do enough before, but I can fix this-”

“Make him leave. I don’t want him here.” 

Credo fell silent, his shoulders heavy and his expression pained. Sparda had never refused such a request from one of his boys. If they wanted someone gone, they need only say the word. As he reached for Credo, the man’s voice stopped him. “Then I will leave if that’s what you want, but I will come back. Even if you won’t return with me, I need to know you’re alright.”

Sparda allowed him to slip out of his own accord, and once the door shut, Nero drifted from the group as well. “I’m going to my room,” he muttered. 

After glancing toward the other three to make sure none would follow, Sparda trailed up the stairs after Nero. Vergil had already caught him in the hall. “I don’t want to talk,” Nero said without any of the usual venom in his voice. “Get out of my way.”

“You’re not in trouble, Nero,” Sparda said. 

“You’re not,” Vergil agreed, “but if you need us to keep that Credo from returning, we will.”

Worry flashed through Nero’s eyes before he could return to anger. “I can handle him. You don’t have to deal with him at all, okay?”

“Very well,” Sparda said. “But may I ask why you don’t want to return home?” 

“Fortuna is not my home. Credo doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s better for everyone if I’m here.” 

Though it wasn’t a clear answer, it was all Nero would give. When he pushed past Vergil with insistence, Vergil stepped back and allowed him to pass. “You only ever bring in troublesome ones, Father,” Vergil said as they listened to Nero’s steps race overhead on the third floor. 

“I do seem to have a habit of that, yes.” 

Once Nero’s movements had quieted, the two headed upstairs to the fourth-floor office. The twin swords greeted them with smiles and were quick to fetch tea when asked. Vergil took a seat on the desk at his father’s side while Sparda took his chair. “You think I’ve handled this poorly,” Sparda said. 

Humming in thought, Vergil traced a finger around the rim of his teacup. “There’s not much we can do for Nero at this point. Sending him back to Fortuna is not only against his wishes but also dangerous for our situation. Perhaps it’s better for us to keep him after all. I can’t say the same for the undercover agent.”

Sparda chuckled and placed a hand to his son’s crossed knee. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t have hired him, but he’s so fun. I like to liven things up every now and then.”

“I think I’m more bothered that he’s human. He's fragile, and Dante is already so attached to him that we’ll have to keep him out of trouble. I’ll have to ask my contact why we’re being investigated. It seems an odd choice.”

“They may just want to keep an eye on us.” Sparda ran his hand up and down Vergil’s thigh with a warm, weighted pressure, and his son allowed it as he sipped his tea. “Should we warn your brother?”

“No, I want to see if he can figure it out. I don’t think it would alter his feelings anyway. If it were just the agent or just the Fortunan, or hell, just the Nephilim, I would not be concerned. To have all three at once is asking for trouble.”

It was rare for Vergil to show his stress, his brow pinched as he ran all their problems through his head like an equation he could solve with enough consideration. Standing, Sparda took his son’s chin in a light grasp and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Whatever may come, I will handle it, my dear,” Sparda whispered. “You needn’t worry yourself.”

Vergil breathed a laugh. “You’re being much too sweet, Father. I know what you’re after. It’s supposed to be my day off.”

“It would help you relax,” Sparda said with a grin. 

“Perhaps, but you don’t get special treatment just because of your position. I only accept cash. What’s your offer?”

“Name your price.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the first PWP chapter is Sparda/Vergil, and yes it is the next chapter. I asked my friend which one to do first, so that's what we're going with. You're welcome to request any odd pairing of the boys for a PWP chapter if you want. I'll do my best to get everyone reasonably fucked.


	3. PWP - Sparda/Vergil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to my good friend Zia. Here's some demon Sparda and a little daddy kink.

Vergil found no greater thrill than watching the feared, powerful Dark Knight Sparda kneel in front of him, but it was just as thrilling to know that his father was the one on his knees. From his seat on the desk, Vergil nudged the toe of his shoe up under Sparda’s chin, tilting the demon’s face one way, then the other. 

Sparda followed any of his son’s whims with a relaxed smile. His son always made it clear when he wanted something. Until then, Sparda was content to place himself as a toy in Vergil’s hands, or under his feet in such a case. 

“You do look good like this, Father,” Vergil said with the rim of his teacup still hovering in front of his lips. “You’re at a much better spot to take off my shoes than I am, so go ahead. No need to keep me waiting.” 

Sparda breathed a laugh as Vergil went back to drinking his tea. His son had always liked to be in charge, always so demanding, so spoiled. Though Sparda hadn’t taken orders since he’d been under Mundus’s thumb, his son was an exception. 

Sparda would have seen the world burn if Vergil asked him for it. 

With slow, careful movements, Sparda untied the neat knots from Vergil’s dress shoes and slipped each one from his feet. The black socks came next, rolled down from Vergil’s calves. Once his toes were free, he curled and uncurled them once but remained still otherwise. “You should feel quite honored, Father,” he said, genuine amusement in his smirk. “I almost never take my shoes off for those who pay me to step on them.” 

“As you shouldn’t,” Sparda hummed as he leaned his cheek to the clean, pleated fabric along Vergil’s shin. “They wouldn’t deserve it. They should never be allowed to touch you at all.”

Vergil clicked his tongue, his teacup ringing against its saucer as he set it aside. “I’m quite expensive to buy exclusively. If you’re so concerned, you’ll need to up your offer.”

“As much as I’d love to, I know I could never hold such control over you. If you wish for those clients for your own amusement, then you’ll have them. You deserve such freedoms.” 

Turning his face away from his father’s adoring gaze, Vergil made a sound caught between a cough and a laugh. “Honestly, Father, you’re too much sometimes,” he said. “Are you going to take my pants off, or are you just paying me to sit at my feet like a dog?”

Sparda grinned at the soft hint of color that had risen to his son’s cheeks. “You know I have to have my fun sometimes.” As he stood, he ran both hands up Vergil’s legs, over his hips and to his sides, feeling the way Vergil tensed under the touch and drew in a deep breath. Though one hand returned to tug at the black belt fitted to Vergil’s hips, the other caught his son’s chin and pulled it back to face him. Before Sparda could catch Vergil’s lips with his own, his son’s eyes flashed with a firm command, and he spoke. 

“Remove your gloves. They’re in the way.” 

Sparda couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, Son.” Placing the fingertips of one between his teeth, he pulled it free from his hand and let it fall to the floor. It was an unnecessary show, he knew, but one that always made a smile inch across Vergil’s lips. Before he could do the same with the other hand, Vergil grabbed it away from him. The pressure of Vergil’s teeth grazed Sparda's middle finger before biting down on the loose fabric and tugging it free from his father’s hand. 

Sparda watched with his heart beating in his throat. His son was so beautiful that every demonic instinct roared through his head to pin Vergil to the desk then, to sink fangs into smooth flesh and fuck him until Vergil was incoherent with pleasure. 

But Sparda would never even consider such behavior toward his sons, not unless they asked him to. 

Turning, Vergil let the glove fall away past his shoulder. “You may continue,” was all he had to say, and Sparda’s hands returned to him with feverish desire. The hand against Vergil’s chin pulled him back directly into a heated kiss. Vergil was quick to part his lips so he could taste the tea on his father’s lips and run his tongue along the inhuman, sharpened fangs. The low rumble from Sparda’s chest could have been a purr or a growl. Vergil was content with either one. 

Once Sparda had whipped off his son’s belt, he was desperate for more leverage against the desk, desperate to feel Vergil’s moans against his lips. Pressing his knee up on the desk between Vergil’s legs, he smiled as Vergil pulled back with a gasp, a line of saliva caught between their lips. 

“Father,” Vergil attempted to scold the grinning demon, but it sounded more like he was begging. The involuntary jerk of his hips begging for more friction didn’t help matters. He knew he could have gotten off just grinding himself against his father’s knee like a dog to the sound of his father’s sweet encouragements purred against his ear. He’d done it before, but he wanted more than that this time. 

“Take off my pants already,” he snarled. “I don’t care if you have to tear them off.” 

“So impatient,” Sparda said as he nuzzled down the line of Vergil’s jaw and to his neck. Vergil raised his chin, exposing more skin to his father as Sparda placed soft kisses where he could reach. “But I’d like to take your shirt off first if you’ll allow it. I’d like to see more of you.” 

Biting his lip, Vergil breathed hard through his nose. His father could be such a tease at the worst of times, but the idea of being fully naked and open in front of the demon always made Vergil’s heart race. “Very well,” he said, hoping he sounded uncaring. 

“Thank you,” Sparda whispered before placing a careful, grazing love bite to Vergil’s throat. A whimper escaped Vergil as Sparda set to work removing his tie and undoing every button down his vest. Each teasing nip of Sparda’s teeth and languid stroke of his tongue along his son's neck made more heat rise to Vergil’s cheeks. Vergil’s body felt heavy and drunk with lust, and his father’s touch finally breaking through his dress shirt to the skin of his chest underneath made him gasp. 

“Father.” He was begging this time. “You too. Strip.” 

Though Sparda pulled away with disappointment in his eyes, his pleasure with the idea was equally obvious as he stepped back to look over his handiwork in full. “You’re so beautiful like this, Son,” he said. “So nice to see you undone for me.” 

“Just for you,” Vergil whispered with a soft smile. His shirt still clung to his arms, the front open and falling from his shoulders. Hungry eyes watched every move his father made, every undone button and inch of revealed skin. His father’s human form was flawless, smooth skin over firm muscle from his neck to the slow reveal of his legs as his pants finally came off. 

He was perfect, but… 

“Give me your demon form,” Vergil decided.

“Oh?” A dark smile crossed Sparda’s features. “Why’s that?”

Vergil could tell how Sparda loved the idea and was already itching to transform. To ask why was an assurance for Sparda as well as a game. Even after so many years, he still grew anxious to touch his sons with his true demon skin, and Vergil found it just as cute as it was unnecessary. 

“Because I want you to fuck me with that big demon cock,” he said with a shrug. “Honestly, I shouldn’t need to ask twice.” 

“Of course, Son.” Sparda’s voice grew jagged, and in a flash of dark power, his form changed. The air grew so heavy that Vergil sank back to his elbows, panting against his father’s raw, uncloaked strength. 

Even with his claws, Sparda’s touch was careful as he reached out to pull Vergil’s slacks from his hips. The touch alone was enough to make Vergil shudder, and he was fully erect once his cock was free to the open air. Seeing his son laid bare, Sparda gave another purr so strong that Vergil felt it like it had rolled over his skin. 

Grasping Vergil’s hips, Sparda pulled them flush with the desk’s edge. “Are you prepared?” Sparda asked through the warm growl over his voice. 

“Always,” Vergil said with a soft laugh. Even with his father’s features demonic, Vergil could see the disappointment that sank the demon’s shoulders. “It comes with the job, Father.” 

“Yes, but you could always let me do it for you.” 

“Perhaps next time. I do want one thing for myself, though.” 

As Vergil sat up, he recognized the flash of surprise in his father’s red eyes. Taking his father’s thick, ridged cock in one hand, he pulled open the top desk drawer with the other to fetch one of the many bottles of lube his father had stashed around the office. The demon’s needy growl made Vergil hum in contentment. This was the Dark Knight, the demon who could tear others in half with ease and who had sealed the king of Hell, and he was a desperate mess under Vergil’s touch. Even running the lube up and down his cock had Sparda trembling in Vergil’s hands. 

“Please,” the demon growled, his claws digging into the desk’s surface. 

“Please what?” Vergil asked with a coy smile. 

“Please let me fuck you.”

Vergil hummed as though in thought before dropping back to his elbows. “I suppose-”

He wasn’t able to say anything else before Sparda’s claws bit into his thighs and spread him open. Though Vergil’s brows shot up, his heard raced with delight at the sudden, rough stretch of his father’s demon cock shoving inside of him. 

“Fuck!” he hissed, his head tilting back to expose a bare throat that Sparda nuzzled with innocent affection even as he filled his son to the breaking point. 

“You’re always so tight for me,” Sparda purred. Vergil’s entire body trembled under him in a gorgeous ecstasy. With heavy eyes and wet lips, Vergil panted and whined with each breath. When he was finally able to speak, he hooked a leg around his father’s hip. 

Sparda looked up and caught his son’s eyes swimming in a lustful haze, but Vergil’s smile still held the knowledge that he was in command, and his words proved it. “Move. I want it hard, _Daddy_.” 

With that, Sparda knew only Vergil’s words and the agonizing pleasure where they were connected. Sparda hadn’t felt so desperate to please someone since he’d been a new general under Mundus’s care, and every broken gasp and moan he drew from his son drove him further into a mindless, animalistic thrill.

“Ye-es,” Vergil cooed with every thrust. His entire body felt like it was burning and close to breaking, but he loved it. His father’s cock made him feel so full, so right. He felt just as content as he did overwhelmed, but he had just enough of a mind to give his father the syrupy sweet encouragements he knew the demon would love. 

“That’s amazing, Daddy. So good. More.”

The demonic pressure was enough to drown Vergil. His head swam as he lay there, letting himself be used and yet knowing he was in control the whole time. Had he wanted anything, he knew one request of “Daddy” would get it for him. He just didn’t want anything else. Lying there and letting his father fuck him senseless was all he cared about. 

He didn’t want it to end, but it was all too much. He couldn’t keep going once he could feel his father’s growls running through him with every thrust. Grabbing one of Sparda’s horns, Vergil wrenched him in close for one last, breathless command. 

“Come with me, Daddy.” 

Sparda’s fangs sank into Vergil’s shoulder as the demon’s powerful form shuddered. His claws held Vergil’s hips flush with his own, filling his son with his cum. Sparda’s instincts reveled in the way Vergil came with an unrestrained moan. The mix of pain and pleasure made his cry so sweet.

As their panting breaths began to slow, Sparda slipped his human skin back into place with another flash that eased the smothering demonic power from the room. Vergil was still gorgeous under him, flushed and covered in his own cum. The bite mark on his shoulder healed too fast to leave more than a few specks of blood. With an exhausted laugh, Vergil reached up and ran his fingers through his father’s hair. 

“I’m not sure if that should be considered relaxing, but I suppose it was fun. Now,  _ Daddy _ ,” he teased out the name, “help me get cleaned up.”

“You don’t even need to ask, my dear,” Sparda said before lapping up a line of cum from his son’s chest. 

“Not what a meant,” Vergil huffed. Smacking his palm to Sparda’s forehead, he pushed his father back. “Carry me to a real shower. You can belittle yourself more once we’re there.”

Sparda’s smile flashed his fangs as he scooped his son up to cradle in his arms. “I certainly will!”


End file.
